


Verd’ika - Little Warrior

by aLilperspective_5597



Category: Star Wars
Genre: Star Wars - Freeform, The Bad Batch X Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23878531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aLilperspective_5597/pseuds/aLilperspective_5597
Summary: This is an original story in regards to The Bad Batch X Reader. Most notably, The Bad Batch training Reader over the course of the narrative, with each chapter focusing on individual members and the particular set of skills they share, coinciding their relationship with Reader.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The narrative spans over several upcoming chapters. If you enjoy the first part of the story, please let me know! Feedback is much appreciated.  
> [Warnings: Mild description of violence and recounting of physical assault.]

Upon briskly making your way back to your quarters aboard the Republic Cruiser you remembered to be classified as the “ _Resurrector_ ”, currently in transit from the Core Worlds back to the Mid Rim, you found yourself intensely chewing the inside of your cheek in a tedious effort to quell the tears threatening to spill, fervently hoping that you could retain your composure until you completed the journey back- Until you were safe and securely locked away behind a closed door with a thick wall as tough as durasteel built up around to accompany- an analogy to which you desperately in that moment wished you could equate your feelings to.

_3 more corridors to go._

Soft but rapid, uncontrollable sniffles begin to be the only sound permeating your surroundings, along with the rhythmic drum of your increasingly resounding heartbeat. Keeping your gaze averted from others and feeling your breathing become uneven as a lump rises in your throat, you begin to rapidly whisper consolations to yourself to calm your racing thoughts.

The chagrin you felt towards your own emotional distress was overwhelming, though you couldn’t exactly pinpoint _why._ You pointedly decided it was a mixture of embarrassment and frustration quipped with an overall disdain for your innate ability to be a _literal doormat._

Seldom did people understand you. _Truly_ understand. Your ability to quench the volley of fiery arrows of negativity from others with your own shield of indifference was admirable to your superiors, but utterly confusing to everyone else.

In layman’s terms- you simply believed being kind and authentic was the road to success in this... _particular_ career, though often at the expense of your own dignity. You believed in advocating for others and nurturing individuality.

Obviously, the beings who tended to agree most with that last sentiment were the _honorable_ men within your surroundings- _clad in various color/patterned schemes of armor, with differing ranks identifiable by the accessorized Pauldrons and Kamas accompanying a few._

After a few agonizingly slow minutes had passed you finally reached your quarters, immensely relieved that the piece of bantha-fodder excuse for a coworker who just earlier, as you wincingly recalled- _connected their hand with the side of your face as you attempted to dodge, the slap resonating in the empty room to which they had forcefully yanked you into moments prior_ \- was currently nowhere in sight.

There wasn’t anything in particular that instigated the incursion. _Unless one considered a disdain for your constantly-evolving and innovative ideas brought forth each briefing to be worthy of lashing out against._

Which in this scenario, you noted bitterly, happened to finally be the case. In your opinion, the only saving grace was that the assault took place away from prying eyes and _after_ the briefing had concluded.

_How kind of them to spare you the **public** embarrassment,_ you sourly think to yourself.

As for your response? Unsurprisingly, you exerted little resistance to the unwanted physical encounter. Tediously striving to be emotionally mature and represent a calm demeanor amidst all scenarios unfortunately means you don’t always advocate for yourself in a way that’s healthy and intrinsically becoming- You’ll be the first to admit your glaring and hypocritical flaw.

A scowl paired with a weak shove to your assailant did _not_ constitute as properly addressing the problem, no matter how much you attempted to convince yourself otherwise.

Being more or less reclusive, you had previously been satiated at the prospect if it meant avoiding indirect attention towards yourself.

But not today.

In an attempt to grasp a bright-side to the encounter, you contemplate whether or not the crude physicality didn’t literally ingrain some sort of newfound perspective in you, quite literally slapping it right in front of your mental viewport with utmost clarity.

Finally punching in your personal code on the keypad to allow yourself in, all the while keeping your back in a current position of disregard for the world around you, you grant yourself the moment of a long, shaky breath; the remnants of hot tears blurring your vision.

“Y/N!”

_Kriff_.

“How did the briefing go?” Chirped Tech, who no doubt held a gaze of intense perplexity that you could already feel boring into your backside.

“Oh, erm, it went fine.” You mumble, refusing to acknowledge the four members of The Bad Batch that you know were undoubtedly waiting in earnest for news on the latest developments.

You had been working alongside Clone Force 99 for several months now, and all things considered, it had been going quite smoothly. While it did take the lot of you awhile to fall into a purposeful stride and even more rhythmic step, what with the chemistry between you and some members taking a tad longer to cultivate- ~~not at all acknowledging Crosshair in regards-~~ you all demonstrated the ability to perform impressively well together, and it’s with tenderness with which you acknowledge the notion that you can’t see yourself ever working with anybody _half_ as skilled or downright incredible as those four.

You outwardly regard them as your friends.

They inwardly regard you as their _cyar’ika_.

  
That’s why when you hesitantly turn to face them, revealing your brightly red and stinging wound so obviously decipherable as a _deliberate_ hit to you, the usually battle-hardened soldiers can’t help but simultaneously bestow upon you varying degrees of livid and distraught facial expressions.

You quickly raise a hand up to cut them off and give a reassuring smile despite your still glistening eyes. “I’m fine.”

You swallowed the unacceptable prospect of having them see you cry.

“ _What happened._ ” Seethed Crosshair, who was the first to recover from shock and predictably allowed the harsh words to flow like venom, as the four of them filed into your quarters behind you. It was more of a demand than a question, and you flinched inwardly at the hostility, even though it wasn’t necessarily directed _towards_ you.

You feigned a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. “Oh, just a _di’kut_ , _chakaaryc_ colleague with which I regard their existence to be equivalent to bantha-fodder,” spilled from your shaky voice despite your best attempts at concealment.

Hunter takes a moment to raise his eyebrows while regarding you with endeared amusement- ever since he and the rest of the Batchers started teaching you Mando’a, they secretly relished in your utilization of it, most notably in your emphasis of the ill-mannered and significantly-less refined vocabulary terms that you also seemed to favor. 

They actually adored your blossoming andnewfound boldness.

“Unsurprisingly, I was never exactly wanted here anyway.” You gesture to your general surroundings before slumping into a chair, the deflation in your voice tangibly evident. 

“That’s irrelevant,” Crosshair spit. Kriff, he was _beyond sick_ of this place- The conceited attitudes, the snide remarks, the nonsensical regulations that Crosshair felt absolutely no obligation to abide by, and the disdainful glances that were a regularly becoming thing for the group anytime they landed on any kriffing Republic base were enough to make Crosshair want to spit toothpicks and fight practically anyone he sees.

Now, Y/N gave him what he considered to be a very  _ valid _ reason to do so.

He inwardly, if only slightly sadistically, smiled at the notion.

Tech tentatively placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry. You know, it’s a proven fact that not everyone is able to properly decipher and appreciate another’s ingenuity. Especially when they are severely lacking themselves, in regards.”

You smiled faintly, attempting to find the validation in his reassuring and undoubtedly wise-cracking words.

Only, your insecurities more often than not tended to stunt your ability in fully bringing yourself to acceptance.

In your eyes, before Clone Force 99 came into the mainframe- you were just but one minuscule, if invisible, piece in a sea of intricately moving parts within the design mechanism that is the _Grand Army of the Republic._

Early on, you were instilled the prospect of doing your part- 

“ _No matter what.”_

“ _For the greater good.”_

- as your advisors would insist.

That somehow didn’t settle well with your morality.

An Officer apart of the Grand Army of the Republic was an entire world within itself. A world where corruptness flourished, outstretching it’s pernicious grip and sowing chaos throughout. A world where the proclivity for political agendas that new, unsuspecting personnel believed would propel them to greatness and thus becoming enveloped in the scenario of bribery and blackmail that is so tragically legitimized; had single-handedly uprooted and destroyed the lives of many individuals you’d come to associate with. 

To say that was not your cup of caf was a _severe_ understatement.

It’s why presently, you regarded with fondness the four individuals standing before you whilereflecting upon your own self-growth within the past few months, thanking the Maker for your good fortune, and feeling immensely better at your current predicament despite having been the target of violence. 

One of the many things you were able to pride yourself on that differentiated you from everyone else was your innately easy-going and overall insightful nature. That’s not to say you possess the inability to care or feel- quite the opposite you note, as you absentmindedly touch your now dried tear-stained face. You simply prefer to stay equipped with a purposeful stride and determined gaze directed towards any lesson learned.

It’s also why, you startled upright in your seat upon seeing Crosshair in his entire stance- complimentary of a set jaw and clenched fists- begin to storm his way out of the room, harboring a murderous look in his eyes, with Wrecker hastily following.

“Wait, guys- where are you going?” You stammer nervously, chewing your lower lip.

Crosshair’s steps falter as he levels a gaze of purposeful intensity at you that sent a shiver down your spine. His next words rattled you to your core, leaving you to contemplate for the weeks and months to come.

“I’m going to find that  _ shabuir  _ lowlife- and then I’m going to kick his ass this one time for you. The next time it happens,” he raises a pointed finger in your direction before placing emphasis on his next words, “ _ you _ will know  _ exactly  _ what to do.”

“Crosshair?...”

_ “I guarantee it.” _

With that, he spun on his heels and was off, leaving you to anxiously weigh his words and inwardly say a prayer for the poor  _ shabuir _ about to come in contact with  Crosshair, of all people.

To further solidify the misfortune of the colleague in question, Wrecker bellowed a boisterous laugh followed by a proclamation before bounding after his  _vod_.

“Yeah, what he said!” 

Hunter, who had remained thoughtfully silent during all of this, abruptly chucked and suddenly strode forward to give you a reassuring pat on your shoulder, as he and Tech regarded you with utmost importance.

“Tomorrow, training begins.”

Upon hearing the declaration, you were left alone to your thoughts and with realization of the sincerity, your eyes sparkled with elation. 

Aiming a canister of Bacta spray and hastily spritzing along the now tender, swollen area encompassed by a dull sting that was your now battered cheek _marked_ a pivotal, defining moment for you. 

It was the day you fiercely decided that you were either going to be as universally well-versed in skill as Clone Force 99, or you were going to die trying. Never again did you want to find yourself in such a defenseless, uninformed and vulnerable state; vowing to absorb everything each member had to teach you. 

The team of Clone Commandos vowed to pass on their skills to you, whom they fondly considered to be _more_ than just a valuable asset to their team, and in more ways than one. Despite having reservations in their teaching methods, _they believed in you._

If only you could see.

You hoped it-  _you_ \-  would be enough.

They hoped their teachings- _they_ \- would be enough.

Only time will tell.   
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Training begins with Hunter!  
> [Warnings: None]

Upon first glance, you’re absolutely mesmerized by the amassment before you:

A unique array consisting of distinctly shaped knives, each fully equipped with an intricate backstory- a conclusion you come to  judging by the vastly differing lengths, weights, and precious metal combinations which you find to be reminiscent of particular planetary artifacts you couldn’t quite place your finger on - currently occupies your attention.

You’re distantly aware of the decision made to later skim through your data-tapes in order to satiate your curiosity, in regards.

Nevertheless, you behold the collection as unsurprisingly befitting of the Commando and Sergeant, Hunter; to whom you find currently standing before you while intently studying your wide-eyed expression directed towards his impressive assortment. 

“Pretty, aren’t they?” 

A grin plasters your face, followed by an insincere eye-roll. “Absolutely. I bet you named every single one, too.”

He brushes the remark aside in all seriousness.

“Sure did. But anyway, we’ll only be needing a few to start out with. I’ve set aside the knives best-equipped to suit the novice.” With that, he begins collectively storing away the extras within his quarters aboard the  Havoc Marauder,  all the while keeping a fistful of his “beginner-friendly” knives at the ready.

Not even one full standard rotation had gone by since Hunter’s proclamation in regards to your training, you realized upon casting a sideways glance to the chrono stationed on Hunter’s small desk next to his cot.

_ 06:00_

Stifling a well-timed yawn before eagerly receiving the tote of  goodies Hunter had handed you, your attention was directed in acute awareness to the fact that the weapons encompassed within were in actuality, tangibly heavier than you initially thought upon solely regarding the aesthetic.

You absentmindedly decided that your favoredshoulder the bag was now slung over would collectively agree upon the notion that the slight discomfort to be undeniably experienced by the end of today’s session would prove minuscule in comparison to the rigorous intensity to be bestowed upon the rest of your body in the days and weeks to come; no doubt believing the rest of your muscles would eventually unanimously converge on that statement.

“Ready to get started?”

Hunter’s leveled question brought you forth from the depths of your swimming thoughts as you nodded, trailing behind him and making your way towards the exit of the ship. 

No sooner upon rounding the corner in passing the common area did you find the form of a sleeping Tech slumped back within the crescent-shaped padded sectional that wrapped around the only table in the room.

Your steps faltered as you studied his entirety- the way his mouth lay agape with soft snores to accompany his evenly measured breaths, the stray strands of hair standing up in random places as the cocked position of his neck temporarily rendered his goggles in a slightly crooked position affixed across his now softened facial features- the expression signifying his current lack of pensiveness that was otherwise so intrinsically becoming alongside his ingenuity. Presently, his usually unrealistic reservations towards the prospect of sleep had been momentarily quelled.

_Must’ve been another late night endeavor_ ,  you conclude with amusement, proof of your deduction on full display- stacked datapads and remnants of both hastily completed and largely unfinished projects splayed haphazardly across the small surface in front of him.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you allowed yourself a moment to regard Tech with a particular sense of fondness- further magnified upon witnessing Hunter drape a blanket over his  _ vod’ika’s  _ sleeping form before the two of you headed out.

***

The brisk, welcoming air that engulfed the planet of _Cophrigin V_ had the ability of shaking any lingering fatigue, leaving your mental clarity as clear as the sky above.

Surveying the landscape, you quickly confirm the simplicity of the scenery around you- terrestrial grasslands and forested mountains as far as the eye could see spanning in all directions appeared to be the main focal point.

Tucked away within the remote Ash Worlds sector and located in the Outer Rim, the planet  _ Cophrigin V _ was a most ideal choice, as Hunter had explained to you- the main reason being the lack of habitation/sentient beings and overall hospitable environmental factors. 

The Bad Batch have several designated but unofficially claimed areas stationed purposefully throughout remote sectors and backwater planets; with all intents of utilizing the spaces to serve as grounds for training and overall downtime between missions forthcoming.

Admittedly, the space within the  Havoc Marauder  can feel a bit suffocating and repressing at times- to which all four members will concordantly agree.

Due to the fact that their escapades in singling out these locations took place before your arrival to the team,  _ Cophrigin V _ _w_ as your first stop thus far along the way.

  
One that you were immensely looking forward to.

Silence permeated the space between as you allowed Hunter to guide you along, keeping pace alongside him even as you trudged through some of the muddier areas of terrain. 

Scaling the mountain faces were, you confess, much more tedious than initially perceived. Being reassured that you were  _almost to the spot_ didn’t make the climb any less of a workout. Unsurprisingly, Hunter appeared to have no trouble at all, much to your mild indignation. 

“Hanging in there?” Came a smirk from the Sergeant ahead before offering his hand in leading you up the apex. 

You gratefully oblige and find his grip, quelling your inward trepidations of losing your footing and tumbling down the mountainside, no doubt your dignity plummeting along with it.

You subtly shake your head in an attempt to clear the  _way too_ picturesque scenario that your mind had just arbitrarily conjured up.

“Never better!” You smile, clambering up the last steps.

After the hike, what last bit of ragged breath you had was sucked right from your lungs upon beholding the scenery before you.

Peering down the mountain you two had just journeyed up, there stood a large forest clearing encircled by a cluster of mountains all around, including the one you were currently standing on. The way the steady sunrise was casting a rich, continuously flowing mixture of cool-toned shadows to contrast with the muted color schemes inclusive of the landmarks both below you and at eye-level; all the while effectively illuminating every texturized piece of nature within sight, was overwhelmingly breathtaking. You felt your eyelids shut in an attempt to feel fully immersed. Sighing deeply and experiencing nothing but tranquility in regards, you came to the conclusion that  this  was pure bliss.

Hunter, who had undoubtedly visited this area more times than he could count, decided that the view from the apex never ceased to amaze him.

It was a view even more breathtaking to behold with you in the center of it.

Basking in the high of your pleasure, Hunter studied you with intent to capture this moment; the fervent hope of it being forever ingrained into his memory- the way your hair was dancing erratically amidst the high-altitude winds, the manner with which your rigid shoulders had begun to relax, the softening of your facial features and the warm, serene smile that accentuated your already full lips- 

It was exactly the response he had hoped for from you. 

_ This was the first pivotal step forward for you,  _ Hunter suddenly realized. 

He, Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair- they all wanted to see you succeed. To witness with pride the way you finally step into yourself and fully embrace the potential they wholeheartedly believed you possessed.

He allowed his thoughts to absentmindedly wonder over the prospect of what it would’ve been like for you had you received their shared set of training and skills at an earlier stage in your life- what would they be able say about your confidence that you would’ve undeniably been in possession of?

You had proven to be a profound change upon entering their lives, they wouldn’t deny that. Reason being, it  _wasn’t_ the fact that you were the typical cold, stubborn, thick-skinned, and overbearing Officer who could spit toothpicks further than Crosshair and effectively kick everyone’s ass in one-hundred different ways. 

On the contrary- It was your compassion, authenticity, equanimity, attentiveness, and overall good-nature that had effectively surprised the otherwise coarse and rugged super-soldiers; making you a stark contrast from the rest. 

You hadn’t previously received professional training in regards to being well-versed in combat \- _yet_.  You weren’t invincible or unapproachable. To just put it simply- The Bad Batch believed that the GAR had done a major disservice to you, much to their indignation. You were  willing \- more willing than anyone they’d ever met prior. You gave your very best in all things, despite your own personal misgivings.

Each member collectively noted the way you slightly mirrored them in a unique, specific way. 

You  realized the way you saw a slight reflection of yourself every time you gazed into the eyes of each member.

And when you allowed your articulate thoughtfulness to flow through your words, people compellingly  listened.

_ They listened. _

In a galaxy full of flourishing evil that palpably reaches out to violently choke and snuff out the stars, dulling and distorting the senses and effectively leaving them to bleed out a monotonous greyscale quipped with black and white; you were the candid splash of color within, the beautiful sunshine that was always bright enough to cancel out the dark. A spark of hope and humanity that the galaxy desperately needed.

You were what  _ they _ needed.

Upon abruptly retracting from his thoughts- his  _innermost desires_ that were threatening to seep through- Hunter didn’t realize you had been staring at him in perplexity, staring at  _ you _ in hyperfixation.

He finally spoke, “before getting started, I wanted you to experience the nice view to help you relax. I know you often have a lot on your mind, and that’s okay, I won’t pry. Just know that the places we’ve picked are your safe place too, to serve as your getaway.”

You briefly felt a twitch of amused  puzzlement, as you could tell  Hunter  appeared to have  as much, if not more, on his mind in that moment than you did, but you nevertheless smiled with deep gratitude and admiration before tentatively reaching out a hand to grasp his forearm.

“Thank you.”

In reciprocation, a smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. There presented an unspoken understanding between you two.

A mischievous sparkle in your gorgeous eyes caught his attention as he barely registered the words accompanying- 

“Race you to the bottom!”

Oh,  kriff. Should’ve seen that one coming.  Hunter lightheartedly chides himself before bounding after you.

Thanks to your slight head-start and the fact that Hunter’s weighted armor slowed him down, if only slightly- you effortlessly make it to the forest clearing first, despite still lugging the weighty bag of knives. You smiled inwardly upon emerging victorious, all the while panting and in a state of breathlessness.

Upon reaching the bottom, Hunter soon appeared alongside you in the clearing as he promptly begin gathering the various makeshift boards and carvings out that had been collectively stashed within.

“Woah- how did you manage  _these_?” You ask in bewilderment upon further studying the craftsmanship.

“Ah, just a little somethin’ Wrecker and I worked on a couple of days back,” he chuckled before continuing, “ya know, lately Wrecker’s had a real knack for carving. I’m glad it for the most part keeps him busy and out of trouble,” to which you laughable agree with the sentiment.

Getting the makeshift targets into position took no time at all, and Hunter began to sift through the bag of knives, pulling out each one and letting you have a good feel before deciding which ones felt more comfortable in your grasp.

You noted how each weapon was in deserving of detailed descriptions, based upon the variation of smoothness, thickness, texture, curvature, and serration accompanying each.

You may or may not have coaxed a promise out of Hunter to later tell you the history behind each one- the notion being further met with enthusiasm upon Hunter hearing your harmless threat of approaching  Tech with the information for the two of you to figure out together if he  won’t oblige.

Hunter began demonstrating different ways to grip the handle, explaining how to decipher air velocity matched with the correctly distanced speed, and the most effective way to throw without injuring your muscles.

You started out considerably close to the target- a  _ whopping 6 feet away _ to be exact, much to your chagrin.

“Don’t worry,” Hunter reassured, “as you progress, we’ll expand more distance between.”

You took a deep breath and evaluated the proper stance Hunter had guided you into- feet apart and knees bent, back straightened, shoulders rolled and laxed, with both hands in possession of a weapon and gripping steadily, each arm bent and thus creating differing angles.

It took you a few hours in passing; a few frustrated cries and exasperated sighs, a few breaks to chug an entire canteen of water,  before the knives slowly began feeling somewhat intrinsic within your grasp. Each throw towards the target increased your awareness and heightened your senses regarding your errors, all the while nurtured by Hunter’s gentle instruction on ways for you to improve each time.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before finally landing one of the smaller, sleek knives squarely in the middle of the stationary target.

You gave a surprised squeal of satisfaction before quickly heading over to retrieve the weapon, all the while squinting in the sunlight that was now emanating from high in the sky. 

“You’re getting it,” Hunter grinned widely and gave a pat to your shoulder. “Nice job.” 

In order to best tailor his teaching methods to you, Hunter spent the entirety of the day’s session intently studying your performance; making correlations and picking up on the sequential patterns encompassing- like how you seemingly favored the sleeker knives with a light, airy weight to them. He regarded with impressiveness on the way you sent them flying through the air- a  _ weak arm  _ would not be an adjective he’d use in describing you.

Throughout the rest of the day you began to land more solid, efficient throws; each time quipped with the ability to move further away from the target in small increments.

You currently stood roughly 15 feet away from the makeshift board, acknowledging the now evening shadows projecting from the towering mountains all around, casting themselves throughout the clearing you had remained in for what you estimated to be a solid 12 hours straight now. 

You became overwhelmingly aware of the beads of sweat dotting your hairline, the tremor of exhaustion threatening to overtake you, and the dull ache now accompanying the shoulder that favored your throwing arm. 

This was good progress, in your opinion. Remembering how today would not be the only day to hone your skills with a knife, you attempted to feel more leniency and less chagrin regarding your performance- this was your first day, after all. All things considered, it had been going exceptionally well. 

_ Having Hunter as an instructor certainly helped, _ you thoughtfully reminded yourself.

***

You managed to remain on  _ Cophrigin V _ for several rotations, and as you progressed in the days and weeks to come, Hunter made a point of slowly incorporating multiple stationary targets to surround you in order for you to rotate and effectively switch between different stances and positions, thus allowing the inanimate objects to feel more authentically equivalent to moving targets.

Hunter felt immensely proud- you were a fast learner, able to intuitively and with all innateness pick up on your own patterns, thus falling into rhythm with your own steady beat.

Even in sparring with Hunter, you had proven to be quite the formidable opponent, he noted, as your smaller frame in contrast with his larger one quickly dodged and evaded him with ease.

Currently standing before him sporting a larger knife in hand to match his own, Hunter noted with tangible awareness the way sweat slicked his hair and effectively matted it to his face, all the while keeping transfixed on the way the remnants of sweat lining your own seemed to make your face shine.

It was only when you smirked at him did he realize it was your  _ confidence _ that gave off your beautiful glow. 

Hunter absolutely  _ adored  _ it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Mostly training with Wrecker, though it gradually becomes a family affair.  
> [Warnings: None]

Your aching form lying sprawled within the muggy swamps enveloping the forested planet of Kashyyyk upon accepting yet  _ another  _ defeat at the hands of Wrecker had you reverting back to the highlight of your original declaration from weeks ago:

“ _To be_ _ as well-versed in skill or die trying.” _

Today had marked a moment you pointedly and with thinly-veiled exaggeration decided the latter of the two choices to be your fate.

“Not to worry, Y/N!” The sound of Tech’s chipper voice calling out to your rigid form reeled you back to reality. “I’m recording your _ entire session  _ with Wrecker with the intent on optimizing your ability of being able to revert back to the footage at a later time for analysis, in order to best maximize your chances for future improvement!”

_ Well. Great.  _

Admittedly, your pride didn’t  _want_ to recall  every time you were overpowered by Wrecker and his unmatched physical prowess  _just_ _today_. 

“Thanks, Tech...” you hesitantly reply, attempting to redirect your mild annoyance from reflecting upon the overall discomfiture of the scenario  _away_ from the tone of your voice.

The pure factuality and sincerity of Tech’s perceived revelation to coincide with his enlightened expression intrinsically drew a slight smile out of you, despite your reservations. 

He meant well. 

So did, you conceded, the gentle giant now looming over you.

“Sorry, Y/N.” Wrecker had sheepishly approached you while offering his hand to hoist you to your feet. “You okay,  _orikih_?”

_Tiny_ ,  you promptly recalled the Basic translation to be. 

A name Wrecker had abruptly conferred upon you the moment he first realized the way his own broad and hulking figure seemingly towered over your substantially smaller stature, in contrast.

You absentmindedly wondered what  _ other  _ obscure names the members of The Bad Batch had for you, if any.

“You kidding, big guy? I’m great. After all, that was only the  _ fifth _ time you’ve swept me off my feet in one session,” you chuckle while flashing him a smile in good-nature. 

“No,  _this_ -“  his large hands promptly scooping you up emitted a squeal of surprise from you, “-is me  _sweeping you off your feet_!”  He laughed in exuberance, a tone to which you found yourself matching.

It was music to Wrecker’s ears.

The knowingly charismatic wink he bestowed upon you with his good eye inflated your sense of mischief as you slyly grinned.

“Literally  _AND_ figuratively speaking- you are correct,” you pat his chest with exaggerated emphasis before continuing, “but only because  _you know_ that you’ve single-handedly stolen my heart-”

That was all the confirmation Wrecker needed.

“-And  as _much_ as I’d like to partake in being coddled, your warm embrace isn’t enough to  _ fully _ distract me,  _burc’ya_.  We have work to do.”

Wrecker took a moment to once again appreciate and feel enamored of your humor and overall easy-going personality that coincided. It ignited a warmth within him that pulsated, spreading through dense muscle like wildfire, much in the way the adrenaline that comes from overturning _LAAT/i’s_ would. 

He had always been in possession of the companionship of his  vods with whom he could be rumbustious with; even as they, up until recently, remained the sole retainers in the knowledge regarding the way Wrecker wore his giant heart on his sleeve.

The way he innately did when wallowing in your radiating presence.

Gingerly placing you back down, but not before feigning a small pout at the notion, you both retreated back to your respective places and stances- with your mental clarity now as pellucid as the Naboo lakes, and renewed spirits rivaling in height that of the Wroshyr trees currently surrounding you; you once again inwardly recall the sequential patterns regarding the hand coordination derivative of melee combat Wrecker had began instructing you in.

You’d be the first to admit that what little technique you had was undeniably in need of _severe_ refining.

But you were going to get it right.

_They believed in you_ ,  you reminded yourself.

“ _Be as well-versed or die trying._ ”

_Well-versed it is_.

***

The beginning phase of training alongside Wrecker had presented with at least two weeks of rigorous weightlifting- the reason being, as Wrecker would explain- was to get your muscles to warm up and fuel the implementation of stretching and relaxing so that your movements during the sparring sessions forthcoming would create for much more fluid motions, thus ensuring maximized effectiveness regarding your overall performance. 

You had initially started out lifting smaller, inanimate objects- single barbells and whatever randomized items around the  _Havoc_ _Marauder_ gave enough weight to provide a decent workout without severely straining your muscles.

Wrecker didn’t want you to feel discouraged at the novice-level you began with so as a result, he too started out with smaller weights alongside you, which you found to be endearing.

Though, lifting  _ you _ in several reps was one of his favorite routines, and a consistent one at that.

At one point, you teased your ability to  _ indefinitely  _ lift Crosshair; who developed a very unamused expression at the notion.

The most challenging part for Wrecker in regards to your training has been for him to constantly remain mindful of the fact that you, or anyone else for that matter- don’t heal, repair, or build muscle tissue quite in the same peculiar way that he does.

He has to fervently remember to  _not_ _utterly_ push you over the edge or to your breaking point while in a state of blissful unawareness.

Which has nearly happened once or twice prior.

Some days were easier than others; the two of you training utilizing either weights or sparring for hours, seemingly making good progress. 

Other days, he noticed with severe uneasiness and a feeling of chagrin on the way your energy completely plummeted and dwindled out within roughly one hour of said routine. 

On those particular days, it was  _ Tech  _ who became the sole voice of reason for Wrecker, thank the Maker; a feeling of exasperation compelling him to chide his  _ ori’vod _ and purposefully remind him on the composition of the normal human body. _Again_.

Wrecker couldn’t help it- your pure enthusiasm remaining undaunted towards the challenges presented your way was unprecedented, and as a result, Wrecker struggled to contain his bubbling passion when sharing his skills with you.

Wrecker felt slightly abashed at his admission concerning the rush of exhilaration he felt at the way you stared wide-eyed and in awe whenever he demonstrated his unrivaled strength; the urge to flaunt his sheer mass further heightened by the prospect of  you  being his audience, particularly.

Nevertheless, he  always has your best interests, even if he doesn’t always go about presenting it in the most cautious or rational of ways.

During missions, everyone found ways to incorporate opportunities, no matter how minuscule, in further honing your skills; effectively making the experience that much more authentic.

You appreciated the way they remained consistent and fastidious with you; never faltering in progress, even when  _you literally would_ find yourself outright face-planting a surface out of sheer exhaustion.

On more than one occasion, most notably during the earliest inceptions of training, Wrecker found himself tentatively carrying your trembling form back to your cot.

To say training was  _ difficult  _ would be an understatement.

But you appreciated the overall tenacity and self-discipline it bestowed upon you, something you had found yourself in desperate search of prior. 

***  
  


As you steadily progressed and strengthened your entire core, the slow construct of muscle tone intrinsically becoming of you; Wrecker decided that the way his eyes became drawn to the definition of each curve and indentation gracing along your upper arms, a symbolism of none other than purely toned muscle, was more than a little distracting.

You were a work of art, in Wrecker’s eyes. 

Even more so with the way you currently stood encased within the walls of one of the starkly white spare training rooms the larger GAR bases kept readily available, graced with the presence of your four favorite members to accompany.

As you became more comfortable in your newfound set of skills, sparring became a joint operation and overall family affair, you noted with mild amusement; each member effectively playing their part- Hunter routinely lending you his prized vibroblade and clashing with you utilizing other weaponry, equipped with Wrecker incorporating melee strikes, Tech recording the whole thing for data, and Crosshair more often than not just... watching. Intently. 

There was a tangible awareness and overall discomfort you experienced while acknowledging with pensiveness the way Crosshair was seemingly and largely uninvolved in your progress in the weeks and months that had preceded.

You had yet to unearth the reason as to  _why_.

However, you couldn’t,  _ wouldn’t _ deny the way it slightly deflated any sense of pride you had attempted to feel while dwelling on your accomplishments as of late.

You had thoroughly earned your battle scars; your toned physique only a sliver of evidence regarding the implication.

Yet, as he stood before you in the sparring room, fully clad in armor and eyes no doubt boring into you through his helmet while suddenly sporting the urge for a turn to spar- you shake your head slightly in that moment, pointedly deciding to swallow your reservations and simply kick his ass.

_ Just as Hunter would’ve instructed you to do. _

You knew it, too- upon locking eyes with the Sergeant, the way he urged you on with a slight nod of his head and knowing smirk was the only proof you required.

You directed the entirety of your attention to Crosshair as the two of you begun to spar; the lack of communication or even slight banter cutting sharply through the air. 

Wrecker loved the feeling of pride swelling in his chest and the sparkle in his eye upon studying your performance; the expeditious, concise manner of your movements impressively executed, the way your brows furrowed and your nose crinkled in intense concentration- an expression he had fondly memorized during all of his time spent with you.

It’s why he couldn’t restrain himself from emitting a boisterous cheer at your triumph over Crosshair, regarding you with the highest compliment-

_ A quick evading twirl to side-step and parry the incoming strike, paired with a jolt to the helmet and solid kick squarely to the back of Crosshair’s knee cap effectively sent him to the ground with a grunt . _

“- _ Verd’ika _ !!” 

You startled at the obscure Mando’a term that had just intensely and with all emphasis rolled off of Wrecker’s tongue.

... _Verd’ika_...

You barely had time to register the pronunciation to yourself or ponder the meaning before the form of Crosshair lying beneath you suddenly planted a durasteel boot on your chest, quickly lacing his nimble fingers around your wrist and utterly propelling you straight over his head as you gave a startled yelp.

You landed flat on your back inches above Crosshair’s head still on the ground, the impact effectively knocking the wind right out of you.

You weren’t even allowed an intake of air before Crosshair, who had yet to let go of your single wrist the entire maneuver, came into view and suddenly straddled your gasping form, placing all of his armored weight on you while pinning your hands above your head.

_ Where the kriff did that come from? _

_ Guess that’s what you get for letting your guard down. _

“Looks like  _ I  _ win,” he said tersely, his slightly ragged breaths fading as the tone of his voice now dripping with sneering  _ pride  _ completely overpowered; a distinctness you could decipher even through his modulator.

The other Batchers weighed mixed expressions of slight shock and amusement.

Wrecker came bounding over, chuckling lightly but projecting a concerned look at your tense form slightly squirming under Crosshair; who simply cocked his head to the side while silently regarding you with a fierce intensity, no doubt basking in his victory. 

In that moment, you felt a spark of defiance and wished you could rip his stupid helmet off to land a solid one to his face.

“ _Vod,_ don’t break her,” came Hunter’s reasonably-even tone, though you were able to decipher the hint of annoyance in his voice, no doubt directed at the way his  _vod_ was currently being a  _ di’kuut_.

You were certain  Crosshair could pick up on it too, judging by the way he abruptly lifted his weight off of you while once more casting a sideways glance in your direction.

“She can handle it.”

His tone was a mix between patronizing and slightly irked.

_ Why was he so kriffing enigmatic and cryptic? _

You noted with unease on the way Hunter had begun pointedly glaring at Crosshair. 

Meanwhile, Wrecker and Tech were regarding you with high approval directed towards your performance.

“So...” you chuckle awkwardly in an attempt to ease the tension permeating the space. “Is anyone going to tell me what ‘ _Verd’ika’_ means?”

Wrecker’s whimsical grin was infectious, spanning from ear-to-ear.

“It means, ‘ ** _Little Warrior’._** ”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N:“Tech-Perspective” time. Purely, unabashedly self indulgent. XD Chapter 4 takes place after the beginning of Chapter 3 and before the end scene- roughly spanning throughout the middle.  
> [Warnings: None]

Hovering over the countertop while bathed in the dim lighting of the refresher aboard the  _ Havoc Marauder_, your attention was occupied with the act of lifting and casually tying your off-white undershirt into a knot to rest underneath your breastbone; all the while leveling your gaze to the mirror and splaying a hand across your exposed midsection to admire the newfound delineation of abs softly contouring your abdomen.

_ Looks like training has been paying off after all,  _ you mused.

You redirected your gaze to the new insignia adorning your ribcage- a small, simple skull with the number  ** 99  ** in placement for where empty eye sockets should be- an artistic affirmation portraying proud devotion to your new squad.

“Another stim for you, m’lady.”

You promptly turned upon hearing the distinguishable voice belonging to none other than the ingenious engineer of The Bad Batch, tentatively entering the space you currently occupied. While being so immersed in your inspection, you didn’t even hear his knock preceding.

He flashed you a whimsical grin while extending a single stim canister in your direction, noting your current state of perusal and fighting off the urge to stare at your taut abdomen. He had yet to notice your newfound imprint that remained just out of view among the shadows, courtesy of the deplorable lighting.

You weren’t ready to reveal your surprise just yet.

“Enjoying yourself in here?”

Reciprocating his smile, you gratefully received the offer of stim, which had been graciously supplied to you during the past few weeks of intense training.

_ Tech was a lifesaver. _

“ More like acknowledging the way I currently feel equivalent to having been trampled by a herd of Bantha.”

He snorted and cocked his eyebrow, regarding you with surprised intrigue. “You would know this from experience?”

“No- not yet, at least. But if I have to trudge through the mud pulling _Wrecker_ and his entirety as weight behind me _one more_ day, I just might find a way to orchestrate the incident,” you emit a soft chuckle.

Your weary tone did not go overlooked, as Tech regarded you and your peculiar sentiment with a sense of fondness. “Well, this should help. Do you have enough Bacta patches?”

“I do. Currently got one right here,” you gave a slight pat to just above your clavicle, towards the patch located on your strained shoulder.

Much to your dismay, you swore that the smell of Bacta would forever be ingrained into your senses; a conclusion you come to based upon the realization of having been practically  _ bathing _ in the patches for  _ weeks  _ now in order to alleviate the physical ailments brought on by rigorous training.

The patches, with the incorporation of stim, proved to be invaluable during your endeavors, and you were thankful for the current deviation from any physical exertion for the day.

Tech nodded in approval before continuing. “I’ve compiled the footage of your most recent sparring sessions, if you’re up for viewing them?” 

***

The methods regarding training alongside  Tech were  _ vastly _ different in contrast with the way you performed with, say, Hunter or Wrecker.

It was training comprised solely of mental stimulation; which emitted no complaints from you due to your proclivity for the prospect.

You had also developed a certain predilection for _Tech_ _ himself_; who’s intelligence and ingenuity you regarded with high esteem, unbeknownst to him.

To coincide, Tech’s personality and expressive body language often spoke more profoundly than his words, and you found the pure animation in the facial expressions dancing across his features to be uniquely endearing.

It was the way his soft, hazel brown eyes sparkled as if beholding a reflection of every star in the galaxy behind the iris whenever dissecting his newest revelations, and the way the pitch of his voice heightened slightly while reciting trivia; a smidge of proof regarding the overall distinct passion and deliberate emphasis coursing through every fiber of his being.

The man was a walking contradiction in thebest, most complex of ways- the manner with which his reflective silence permeated spaces for great lengths of time before predictably followed by a spurt of incessant speech never failing to amuse you.

Methodical yet sporadic.

You’d be a liar if you said that you were not absolutely  _ enamored _ of the engineer’s quirky personality that frequently peaked through, and the way it seemingly matched your own.

Tech enjoyed instructing and overall conversing with you in general; appreciative of your ability to find any sense of intrigue within his ramblings, and impressed by the way with which you single-handedly deciphered his entirety and equated him to that of transparisteel.

Tech found the scenario to be a rarity, and you along with it.

In the way your passion and articulate methods coincided with each other, he regarded your shared chemistry to be equivalent of a formulated equation with a missing variable Tech had, admittedly, yet to solve.

It-  _ you _ \- shrouded him in utter perplexity.

Before you came along, Tech had never met _anyone_ else who shared even an _inkling_ of his energy in the pursuit of his infinite thirst for knowledge- innately proving to be a quest, a mission; not even his _vods_ fully understanding the way Tech found the prospect to be the _only_ campaign he’d wholeheartedly undertake for the rest of his life, however long that may be.

From a purely factual standpoint, no one was more tangibly aware of Tech’s ingenuity and unrivaled abilities than Tech _ himself_; fully  acknowledging the undeniable way his confidence bolstered each time he improved upon applied mechanisms, each time he was proven to be 100% accurate in his analysis, each time his “brilliant ideas” saved their necks.

Tech always believed his particular abilities of absorption and analytics regarding all types of collective data to unparalleled, secure in the assumption that there was  _ nothing  _ he  _ couldn’t _ find a method to in solving.

When he first got to know you, Tech quickly realized how  _ severely _ miscalculated all of his previous logicalities were; thus setting forth with vigorous effort in an attempt to strip and re-wire the more intricate areas of his brain that remained unable to process the newfound feelings for you budding in the pit of his stomach, with the fervent hope of a way to bypass the foreign neurons altogether.

Tech’s rationalizing of your very occupation within his innermost thoughts proved to be one of his more...  _delicate_ operations. 

***

The day Tech first revered your mental capacity and overall talent regarding the way you retained information, the two of you had been perched ato p the _Havoc Marauder,_ bathed in the evening shadows as you lie fully back while listening to Tech chatter on about the flora and fauna enveloped within the planet you were currently stationed; his position unsurprisingly comprised of undivided attention directed towards the marveling of his findings as his features became washed in the blue light emanating from his datapad.

You remained silent the entire time, listening intently while staring lazily at the sky and remaining tangibly aware of the warm body propped close to you.

Tech was often so immersed in his own unravellings of every illuminating revelation that he failed to notice the stolen glances with which you regarded him- the softening of your gaze, an endearing smile plastered to your features, and the overall relaxed state you found to be naturally becoming of at the soothing sound of his voice.

Easily discernible to the perceptive eye, but not to the engrossed engineer; who simultaneously noticed  _ everything  _ and  _ nothing at all .  _

It’s why he, upon conclusion of his presentation, whipped his head to you in authentic surprise at your abrupt response-

“ Wow. ”

A simple statement, but it was the  _ way  _ with which you uttered the word; a whispered breath of pure awe to match your wide-eyed gaze.

Your look was quickly replaced by thinly-veiled perplexity aimed towards Tech’s sudden startle in your direction. He recovered andsmiled sheepishly.

“I just... didn’t think you were still listening, Y/N.”

You swallowed down the slight offense taken at his admission and instead graced him with a soft smile; Tech vaguely noting the way your eyes sparkled with sudden mischief.

You began, in total recollection and pure ardor, relaying  _every bit_ of  his own information directly back to him, faultless in your spiel and even going as far as addressing your  _ favorite parts _ of his disquisition. 

Now it was  Tech’s  turn to regard you with awe; having been throughly impressed by your performance and, with a swell of affection, gratefully acknowledged your constant state of thoughtfulness towards the validity of his existence- the way he didn’t feel as if he was shouting into an empty void was, admittedly, a nice change of pace for once.

It meant a lot to him, more than he could convey to you in words.

Tech felt the slight rush of panic at the way these particular...  _foreign neurons_... 

_Feelings_... 

Suddenly effervesced to the surface and threatened to explode with undeniable intensity.

Because Maker, he could’ve kissed you right there.

You faltered slightly upon noticing his flushed cheeks and distant gaze before chuckling lightly as you reached out with a grounding touch to his forearm; the hopes of reeling him back from his drowning thoughts evident in your voice.

“Tech. You okay there?”

Tech bit his lip and swore with mild vexation at the way Hunter would most likely sense his  _ vod’ika’s _ sudden fluctuation in hormones; consumed by the notion of his fellow  _ vods _ giving him _ hell _ for it later.

_ They did, indeed. _

***

Kriff, you were so smart.

No matter how many times your humility prevented you from accepting the compliment in regards, Tech’s appraisal towards you still stands. With all sincerity, Tech wished he could infiltrate and hack through your complex firewall of self-reservations just as easily as he could a Separatist Cyber Center. 

The Bad Batch found you to be invaluable on missions, even  before you began learning their unique set of skills.

You would be the one to receive orders, if any, for their next escapade- your ability of retention for information and attentiveness to the way you proceeded with a great deal of analysis regarding schematics of both landscapes and facilities of wherever you were assigned remaining the forefront of your talents. 

Everyone had a respective place during each mission; their methods calculated and deliberate. More often than not, you would find yourself alongside Tech, aided by gadgets and armed with the magic of the small box fixed atop the gauntlet enveloping his right forearm as he made quick work of accessing locked areas and bypassing complex feedback relays; the scenario further reinforcing but a few ways his skills and ingenuity proved to be inclusive of the team’s most valuable assets.

Before inevitable chaos ensued- a prospect intrinsically becoming of each mission- Tech would often allow you to participate in his slicing or bypassing; with you appreciative of the way he took a brief moment to explain what it is he’s doing and the overall significance of the task, before letting you perform on your own from there.

He remained impressed with your ability to work almost as quickly as he could, believing that you learned best by way of visual and hands-on approach.

During downtime, Tech had more or less turned you into a walking encyclopedia, much to the annoyance  _ or  _ amusement of the others, depending on which member you were regarding.

The two of you became practically nocturnal together- studying, downing caf, studying some more, and eventually collapsing from exhaustion in positions that had Crosshair capturing images of the two of you and stashing the holograms to use for future leverage.

Tech will lie with all earnest regarding the encounter-  
“I have no recollection of  sleeping _with an arm around her waist_ _,_ Crosshair.”

***

Positioned in a chair directly next to Tech’s with your head resting casually on his shoulder, you both reviewed more sparring footage splayed across the table as the two of you chattered incessantly.

Tech’s provided input and tips for improvement to coincide his careful scrutiny in your performance had proven to be invaluable, as you both knew it would.

You’d become increasingly comfortable in each other’s presence in the weeks and months that followed your first encounters; your movements more natural and seamlessly flowing as your expressions proved to be the recapitulation of an unspoken language between the two of you; innately picking up on each other’s succinct eye-rolls, whimsical smirks, and suggestive winks. 

Upon viewing the footage and noting with mild indignation at all of the undignified ways your form lie sprawled on the ground in defeat, you couldn’t help but laugh regarding the stoked remembrance, meanwhile lacing your thoughts with optimism and a gentle reminder that each session irrefutably presented new opportunities for improvement.

Nevertheless, you found a sliver of self-depreciating humor to be innately becoming of you.

“Well,” you chucked, pointing to a certain shot before continuing, “Right there, I look-”

“ _Beautiful_ ,” Tech murmured to himself, the tone of his declaration regarded with the same entrancement as by one who had stumbled across a breathtaking discovery.

Which by all calculations, you  _were_ ,  in Tech’s eyes. 

More thrilling than _any_ discovery.

You raised your eyebrows as you pondered whether or not your ears had conjured up a fantasy.

However, one glance at Tech’s dazed expression- his eyes having not left the display and seemingly lost in a daydream, confirmed the unmistakable.

Tech couldn’t help himself. It had taken him several months before he even remotely began accepting the way you had maneuvered through his inner-workings, making yourself a permanent home nestled deep within the beating muscle on the left side of his chest.

You became the sole contributor to the way his heart raced at the softened gazes and dazzling smiles you bestowed upon him.

To the way your voice, sweeter than honey, found Tech with an urge to record every word in an attempt to capture your essence.

To the hitching of his breath and coursing adrenaline anytime your fingertips grazed his skin.

To the reason his mind raced at night.

Tech realized it was no longer the _caf_ that gave him the shakes.

With utmost sincerity and sudden clarity, he had finally found the missing variable in the equation.

Tech was in  _love_.

_ Absolutely in love with his verd’ika. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 5 is here! It takes place immediately after the events of Chapter 3. Crosshair and Verd’ika time.  
> [Warnings: None]

_ “She can handle it.” _

He didn’t know  _ why  _ he made the proclamation, what exactly it  meant to him, or why it kept resounding through his thoughts.

He didn’t know  _ why  _ he was so utterly  _ irked _ upon storming out of the training area after sparring you.

Or why you were single-handedly more intoxicating to Crosshair than his entire stash of Corellian Whiskey.

All  Crosshair could comprehend is the fact that he  _ needed _ to clear his head. _Fast_.

No other way to do that than with a welcomed therapy session involving his beloved rifle.

Crosshair trudged along the outskirts of the base, having moved quickly through the incessant chattering of personnel that littered the entirety of the infrastructure.

It was peaceful out here, Crosshair notes; largely flat landscapes with clusters of forested areas spaced in non-linear fashion immediately catching his eye. 

If you asked Crosshair about his favorite type of terrain, he’d most likely tell you about his penchant for forested areas; the way he could get lost in the maze and effectively become enveloped within the blanket of lush leaves and sturdy branches provided a sense of stability. It allowed his already superlative eyesight a slight advantage by way of higher incline within the topography.

_ Slight  _ advantage- Not that Crosshair  needed  the minuscule detail to further fuel his nonpareil skills.

He promptly hoisted himself up the sturdy trunk and unceremoniously planted down on one of the thick limbs.

And... sat there. Unmoving.

Crosshair cursed under his breath to no one in particular. He tried to convince himself that he  _ hated  _ the way you had slowly crept up into his thoughts, suffusing, before completely occupying the space with an overwhelming intensity.

_“Verd’ika...”_ Crosshair blurted, mostly to himself- as if tasting the way the syllables rolled off his tongue, and testing whether or not the gusts of wind the word innately blew into would approve.

For all intents and purposes, you had respectively earned your right to the title, Crosshair wouldn’t deny that.

He reverted back to the day he looked upon your battered cheek many months ago, and the way your wide-eyes had mirrored his own vulnerable reflection when Crosshair gazed into them. He recalled the way your fellow colleague officer, your assailant, had regarded Crosshair with _utter_ _ terror  _ engulfing his features, how the man trembled at the way the threats spewed with ferocity after a brief physical altercation; to which Crosshair  _ obviously  _ triumphed.

He reflected upon the way you sometimes kept Hunter company around a fire at night while he showed you his knife collection in swank fashion; with you fully invested in the absurd stories behind each one that innately emitted your charismatic laugh.

To the way you got along with Wrecker; the two of your equally effervescent personalities proving explosive alongside each other, with your whimsical expressions and lighthearted words demanding to be desirably contended.

And with Tech; the way you  _ never shut up  _ talking to him, effectively earning yourself the name of  _ Tech 2.0  _ to add to the growing list.

Crosshair meant it in the most endearing way. 

To the way your stance today; radiating a gorgeous confidence that was intrinsically befitting of you, gave him a knowing smirk before  _effectively_ kicking his ass.

He almost found himself  _ thanking _ you for it.

Even though Crosshair had ended up trumping you- he had yet to decipher as to  _ what  _ _possessed him_ to spar you with such a sporadic urgency- the way you looked while pinned under him: baffled, gasping for air, and slightly wincing, visited him with a smidge of guilt at the way he acted a bit like a  _ shabuir _ in that moment, even if he _knew_ you  _ could  _ handle it.

_ “You will  know exactly what to do- I guarantee it.” _

His original declaration echoed in that moment as he recalled the way you first regarded him with a hesitancy thereafter that hung thickly in the air that day.

All things considered- Crosshair‘s word had indeed stood true and withstood the test of time. After today’s performance, he had no doubt in his mind that you could successfully hold your own against anything.

Crosshair admitted, with a sense of contrition no doubt, that he himself had essentially contributed nothing in the way of your achievements and blooming skills, though he very well had  _ every _ means to.

***

_ “She asked me. Again. That’s twice just today.” Hunter’s slightly exasperated voice cut through the silence. _

_ “And?” Crosshair casually asked while regarding his ori’vod. _

“ _When are you going to get on board? She clearly wants you to be involved in the training, because she won’t stop asking about you and making suggestions about it with thinly-veiled subtlety.”_

_ “Not really my problem, Hunter.” _

“The hell it’s not. We made a promise, vod,” _Hunter’s tone_ _sharpened._

_ “No,” Crosshair bit back before jabbing a finger in Hunter’s face. “ **You ** made a promise.  ** I, **have nothing to do with this.” _

_ “But you want to.”  _

_ “That’s irrelevant.” _

_ “What do you think  ** 99 ** would have to say about that, huh? We may be unorthodox, but we still have a  ** duty**.” _

“ _ **Don’t ** _ bring _**Ninety-Nine**_ into this,” Crosshair warned through gritted teeth.

_ “No, **don’t** be a di’kuut and listen for  ** once**,” Hunter sterned. “99 made us the men we are today, and the least we could do is honor his legacy- we made a promise to  ** him**, remember? To advocate for those who are  **different** , to be  **mindful** of those along the way who show potential and could benefit from our teachings. **To pass on our skills\- Clone or otherwise. **We don’t get to be  **Super** **Commandos** and abandon everything and everyone else. Think where we would be if old Ninety-Nine hadn’t found us that day- the day where you were so upset over a hurtful comment from the other cadets that you locked yourself in one of his supply closets to cry- if he hadn’t been there to encourage our skill and instill our resolve? Think where we would be if he simply disregarded  ** us ** the way that you do Y/N.” _

_ Crosshair didn’t even get a word in before Hunter continued, unremitting and passionate in his persuasion.“Y/N is essentially an outcast, **like us.** Yet ‘resolute, unique, and different’- in your  **own words,** that’s  ** why ** you said you liked her so much to begin with, right? She’s surpassed  ** all ** expectations in training, Tech and Wrecker would agree.  _ _ She’s  ** good ** to us. I don’t understand why-“ _

_ “ **I am not** the right person for her, **for** ** this** **!”** Crosshair threw his hands up and shouted in admission. His face felt hot and he was trembling; his deep insecurities that typically lay prisoner in a dark dungeon under lock and key were suffocating in that instant.  _

_ “Sithspit!” He hollered immediately after for good measure, hoping to solidify his pointed exasperation at Hunter’s prying and using anger as the emotion of choice to mask his pain, as Crosshair predictably did all too often. _

_ Hunter became motionless, regarding his vod in sheer surprise and feeling distraught over the pain that Hunter knew cut deep through Crosshair just by the exchanged words alone. _

_ “I am NOT a teacher, Hunter. You- you know that. I can’t be what she wants me to be,” Crosshair continued in a murmur, quieting, as if that would quell the tremor of his emotional dam threatening to break and spew forth with a regrettable intensity. _

_ “Vod... she believes in you.” Hunter was at a loss for words, unsure of how to reel Cross out of his intrinsically pernicious cycle of wallowing in his own self-reservations. _

_ Crosshair laughed bitterly at Hunter’s sentiment. Talk about misplaced hope. _

_ “Then maybe she’s a fool,” Crosshair coldly stated in just above a whisper before spinning on his heels, regarding Hunter with his back and trailing off without another word. _

***

A solid week, Crosshair notes, since his _enlightening_ encounter with Hunter. Remaining perched high in the limbs, he found the conversation plaguing his thoughts alongside many other. The only thing he felt remorseful of was calling you a fool; though the insult hadn’t even addressed you in person.

Either way, he knew the terse statement spoken from his accumulation of deeply- rooted trepidations to be further from the truth.

“Hey...”

He suddenly tensed at the gentle hand placed on his armored shoulder to coincide the timid vocalization echoing behind. It wasn’t his surprise or startle at the  _touch_ ,  per se, that made Crosshair tense than it was the actual woman  _ herself _ whose dulcet voice was attached.

He stilled, not daring to move or speak and wondering  _how exactly_ she had inaudibly crept her way through the terrain and up the timber before appearing behind him.

“Can I sit?” You finally asked after a long moment; noting the way his shoulders tensing at your touch and the almost imperceptible nod of his head in response to your inquiry became the only implication regarding his knowledge of your presence.

You tentatively sink down beside him, sharing the limb and inwardly thankful at it’s strength to uphold the two of you in that moment.

Despite you being a woman of vivacious personality, your ability to retain a tranquil and overall thoughtful composure under appropriate circumstances was oddly soothing for Crosshair, though he refused to coax himself into a relaxed state in that moment until he deciphered what exactly you were prodding at.

Your loss for words permeated the silence- how exactly do you go about conversing with a man who was a stark contrast from the rest of his team in the way of contributing little to conversations, save for the derisive vocabulary reserved for the ones who stepped over the line?

Though you had been officially apart of Clone Force 99 for a solid year now, you still found engaging with Crosshair to be a complex mission- one you suspected to be a never ending mission, at that. 

Which is not necessarily a bad thing.

“Crosshair...” you begin, unsure of how to construct your burning question.

“Why... Am I-“

_Beautiful, intelligent, capable, too good for this galaxy?_ \-  Crosshair bit his tongue in that moment to keep from spewing out his innermost thoughts.

“-a  _ fool _ for wanting you to train me? For actually believing that  _ you can, _that  _ I can _ ?” You barely manage, but with utmost sincerity and authentic bewilderment.

Crosshair immediately whipped his head to you, barely able to bite back a scoff poised alongside the toothpick rolled between his now grit teeth.

_ Dank farrik. That bastard ori’vod of his. _

You quickly raised a hand to cut him off, sensing the glowering expression through his helmet. “Yes, Hunter  _did_ tell me...” you pause, wanting to ease the tension while attempting to  not  offend Crosshair so that he won’t completely shut you out.

“Crosshair... honestly, I don’t know what to say. All I know is, I  _ want  _ to learn what you have to teach me. You’ve got  _ something  _ to share tucked away within that  _ ram’ser  _ brain of yours.” You smile sheepishly before continuing. “Look, I’m aware I’m not  _ half  _ as skilled as you four. But  _ dank farrik, _I can damn well try.” You sigh in defeat upon finishing your spiel.

“It’s not you,” is all he replied.

_ Well, that was illuminating_ . You stifle an eye-roll.

_It truly wasn’t you_ _,_ and Crosshair desperately wished he had something more persuasive to say- he felt at a loss regarding how to even go about scoping and marking out his feelings while bringing them into full view with clarity the way he could any other target.

Crosshair took a moment to note your Mando’a- which, Crosshair admits, is now very refined and mellifluous sounding in the way the syllable rolled off your tongue- how you regarded him as  _ ram’ser: sniper, marksman.  _

_The very first Mando’a term Ninety-Nine had taught and proudly bestowed upon him._

In that instant, Crosshair felt a twinge of something. An emotion long forgotten, one he swore he had put in the grave years ago. It unearthed, warmly spreading through him before setting his body and thoughts on fire, igniting a stoked passion.

He should’ve known that only  _you_ could effect him in such a way, and in that instant, he could’ve swore you didn’t require training- your unprecedented ability to aim and snipe with sheer accuracy point blank through your target that is Crosshair’s usually guarded heart with your own rifle of compassion and sincerity was skill enough alone.

It made Crosshair lightheaded.

He regarded your own reservations, studying your hesitant but unyielding facial expression, and it unwillingly recalled him back to his cadet days- the picturesque of  _ a small boy; wide, vulnerable eyes and an innocent posture, wondering if he’d ever be  ** half ** as skilled as the infantries he watched from afar. _

_ Until he realized that he  would **damn well try.** _

_ And later, with further defiance and less tolerance for stereotypes, a spark of tenacity and obstinate flickering in his soul, wholeheartedly deciding that he  **would be the best;** never forgetting to attribute his success to the man, the friend he called Ninety-Nine. _

_ He owed him that much. _

Crosshair slowly removed his helmet to look you right in the eyes, and you didn’t flinch a bit as you held his gaze.

You mirrored Crosshair in so many ways.

You had watched as he remained silent after your speech, carefully studying the way his facial expressions contorted in a conflicting manner. You knew Crosshair long enough to realize that his thought process was much more intricate than the words he spoke. 

You noticed a sudden shift in his demeanor; the softening of his fine lines- _equanimity_. 

The long, deep intake of breath-  _self_ _reconciliation_.

The fire in his eyes with which he now regarded you- _resolve_.

It spoke profoundly, and neither one of you dared utter a word as you became lost in the iris of his deep eyes; and he in yours.

Wordlessly, he extended his rifle to you; the action requiring no explanation on either end as two separate hands each became intertwined through the object connecting you together.

_ I believe in you,  _ one encouraged.

_I trust you_ ,  affirmed the other.

***

“ _Relax_.”  Crosshair’s instruction cut through the air- a little sharper than he had meant it.

You stood; poised a few meters away from a makeshift target courtesy of Hunter and Wrecker, armed with Crosshair’s sniper rifle and noting with mildly indignant amusement at how it nearly contested your overall height as your rigid stance tensed further at Crosshair’s terse command. 

Crosshair quickly retrieved the sharp object that was the tone of his voice before softly explaining, “you’ll injure your muscles if you don’t.”

You nodded in understanding before rolling your shoulders and repositioning your hands along the shaft of the weapon, cocking your head to more accurately bring the target into center through the scope fixed atop.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Crosshair coaxed. He could tell you were intimidated by the task at hand, to say the least.

You fired and- missed, unsurprisingly; wincing harshly as the shot soared  straight over  the target, echoing off into the distance.

“ _Kriff_ ,” you mutter under your breath in dissatisfaction before promptly getting back into position for another go.

You suddenly felt larger hands and nimble fingers gently cup your own positioned around the rifle and you jerked reflexively, tangibly aware of the warmth that is Crosshair’s body now practically pressed up against you as he worked to tweak your stance.

“Easy,  _verd’ika_ ,”  he cooed, a slight smirk peaking through and playing across his features. He kept one hand wrapped around yours positioned further down the shaft of the rifle, while shifting his other grip to your shoulder, gently pressing it downwards to level with the rest of your stance.

“Make sure you keep your shoulders level and parallel with the ground,” he clarified. You nodded, tilting your head to once again regard the scope and expecting Crosshair to back away in order for you to fire a shot.

He remained directly behind you, arms stilled and steady around your frame, to your slight confusion.

“Go ahead and try again, this will help.”

Just as Crosshair predicted, your shot landed on the target this time; not quite a bullseye, but it actually  hit  the board during your attempt, much to your relief. You instantly recognized the way Crosshair’s newly improved stance he coached you into had proven it’s significance, and that the proper position makes a  huge  difference regarding accuracy.

“Not bad,  _ verd’ika _ ,” his praise rang in your ear and you shivered slightly.

Several instructed sessions later throughout the day and, you finally felt you were strengthening your relationship with Crosshair’s beloved rifle. 

_ With Crosshair as well_ _,_ you thoughtfully admitted to yourself.

***

You could sense his initial uneasiness when you first headed out to the range several rotations ago; knowing full well that he was very uncertain on how to proceed with you, that this was uncharted territory, and gentle reproach was not exactly something Crosshair was well-versed in, you both knew. But you thought he was doing great so far, and you attempted to be as complaisant as possible in order to ease the tension.

You weren’t sure what  _ exactly  _ he thought of your lackluster performance thus far- if he seemed displeased, he certainly wasn’t showing it. Attempting not to allow frivolous hesitancies to occupy too much headspace, you instead reminded yourself that there’s always room for improvement, and that’s good enough for you.

Crosshair thought you were doing well. While you weren’t able to hit a precise target from ten klicks like he could-  _yet_ \-  your very first session had been productive. 

Admittedly, it felt nice to be the one to contribute to your success, Crosshair noted. He had intently studied and memorized your posture during the entirety of the days; making quick assessments as to where improvements were needed. As you began to relax, Crosshair felt his otherwise rigid stance slacken, too. He relished your smile anytime you hit the target; the probable success of a bullseye more intrinsically becoming each time.

As you became more familiar with the scope and the way Crosshair had taught you how to decipher the formulas of calculating elevation and windage changes and in turn how to compensate, you could  see the prospect of a bullseye or two in the not-so-distant future for you.

It was going on your fifth rotation of sharpshooting before your attentiveness paid off as the blaster fire landed with precision squarely in the middle not one, not two, but  _ three  _ times in rapid succession. You shouted in delight. Your increasingly skillful nature was no doubt exemplary and worthy of commending.

Crosshair felt another twinge, beneath the current hammering of his heart in his ribcage, past the warmth circulating through again- another emotion otherwise foreign to him unveiling itself in that instant.

Crosshair felt  _proud_.  In  _adoration_.

“ _Cyar’ika_...”  his other endearing name reserved only for you spouted from his lips in a revealing manner. Crosshair didn’t even realize the way the Mando’a term had slipped out of the grasp of his thoughts and darted right out in front, the syllables sneaking past his tongue before he could even comprehend and retract the now visible sentiment.

One look at your form and the way you stiffened suddenly, with Crosshair absentmindedly noticing the way your toned shoulder muscles peaked through your shirt at the emphasized posture, confirmed his suspicions as to whether or not you caught wind of his confession.

You slowly turned to Crosshair, regarding him with curiosity and raising your eyebrows in exaggeration before strolling over to his position.

“ _Cyar’ika_... You’ve got  _another_ fun name for me?” You laugh aloud before continuing, closing the distance between. “Why do you guys feel the need to divulge these obscure Mando’a terms at the  _ last _ second, especially when I’m in the midst of fervent concentration?” 

He lightly brushes your cheek with playful suggestiveness, the low tone of this voice stirring your own allure as he casually shrugs. “Maybe because we simply can’t contain ourselves around you,  _cyar’ika_.” 

“Oh? Care to at least provide an explanation?” 

He smirked. “Sure thing,  _darling_.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6: Part 1 is here! Real-time mission with Verd’ika and The Bad Batch. Chapter 6 as a whole will be the last one in the Verd’ika storyline- however, I will most likely be updating with several loosely intertwined drabbles within the narrative: feel free to let me know in the comments if there’s any particular interaction or scenario you’d like to see. Stay tuned, and take care!  
> [Warnings: None]

“Here’s the newest intel,” you announce, handing your datapad to Hunter, who briefly skimmed through the details before turning in amusement to regard the others.

“ _Jyndiysh,_ eh? Been a while since we’ve visited that  _ lovely _ place, huh fellas?”

You raised your brows quizzically before eyeing each member standing before you as they exchanged knowing glances. “ _Lovely _ place? Is there something I’m not privy to?”

Tech was, predictably, the first to acknowledge your question, with innate enthusiasm at that. “Well, Y/N-  _Jyndiysh_ is the host of inclement weather and-“

“GIANT  _ Chebesiy_! HUGE!” Wrecker blurted with a shout of pure glee amidst Tech’s delineation. “Took a whole nest down with my bare hands- you should’ve  _ seen _ the  _ way _ those buggars  _ explode _ when you smash ‘em!” His obvious tone of pride at his accomplishment, even if the story was a bit morbid, was endearing nonetheless. You further inflate his eagerness with a loving pat to his forearm- the extremity being closest to your eye level. 

“Well then we are  _ no doubt _ in good hands.” You pause to chortle, reaching for his large hands and giving them a slight shake mid-air as proof of your indication. “Literally.” 

Wrecker can’t help but beam at your subtle admission on how  _ secure _ you feel around him.

Tech’s pout playing on his lips followed by an exasperated puff of air at his  _orivod’s rude_ interruption draws your attention back. He clears his throat with pure deliberation and all the dramatization he can muster. 

_ You love it.  _

“ _As I was saying_ - aside from  _ Jyndiysh’s  _ opposing climates and rather territorial fauna- there is the other prospect regarding the actual race of primitives. The  _ Dishi _ are well-armed and quite defensive. Plainly stated- not the most hospitable planet to house an escapade.” His tone exuded concern, but oddly, not directed towards his own well being.

“We’ll be fine,” Hunter’s voiced laced with optimism was quick to reassure. “We’ve handled it before, and  _this_ time, we actually  _ know _ what we’re up against.”

“Oh, the stories I could tell!” Wrecker chimed in while regarding his own statement with utmost importance. You quickly assure Wrecker of your  _ undivided attention  _ devoted to his stories at a later time before Crosshair chimes in.

“What’s the specs?”

“Apparently, we are to recon  _ solely _ the northern hemisphere-“

“ _Exactly _ where the hostiles are...” Tech allowed his trepidations to seep through in that moment, which remained pointedly unaddressed as you continue unfaltered in your briefing.

“-to investigate a potential secret Separatist listening post. The Republic believes this ‘ _phantom operation_ ’  is severing any progress being made concerning the war efforts engulfing the Outer Rim.”

“So we have no confirmation it actually exists?” Hunter hesitantly questioned.

“So far- no. High Command is being quite cryptic on the matter.” You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose in mild annoyance at your own lack of answers.

Crosshair narrowed his eyes as he questioningly searched your face. “Who was there at the briefing?” 

“Jedi General Windu and Admiral Kilian were present.”

Crosshair humphed and found himself rolling his eyes.  _High Command_. “That’s nice.” 

“Commander Cody was there, too.”

His facial expression softened before muttering, “That helps.”

“Actually- Cody was the one who initially put in the request for our team in regards to this particular assignment. He approached me with further details after the briefing. Not much, but there is some on here,” you wave the datapad in emphasis.

“Ah. Good man, that Cody,” Hunter regarded the Commander thoughtfully.

“Wait... so... stealth mission  _ only_?” Wrecker interjects, only to sulk in dismay at your confirmation of his inquiry.

“Relax, Wrecker- that scenario is most likely  _ not _ gonna happen with us around.” Crosshair factually stated with a pointed indifference.

You cast a sideways glance to regard Crosshair for a moment before continuing. “Hm. Good point. Regardless- we’re still to at least  _ initiate _ covert.  _ If _ we meet with heavy resistance- I was told that Commander Cody and his Jedi General alongside the 212th could  _ possibly _ reinforce us, as they’ll be stationed a few parsecs out.” 

Hunter nodded in acceptance before acknowledging each member of his crew. “Alright men,  _ verd’ika _ \- let’s get going.”

***

The trip to  _ Jyndiysh _ was relatively smooth- at least the upper atmosphere and gravitational pull beckoned visitors.

_That was about the only thing_ , you noted, as the five of you found yourselves simultaneously surrounded by the locals armed with large weapons and irate expressions to match.

Aside from their makeshift weaponry which was commendable, you came to the conclusion that the  _ Dishi _ weren’t a very advanced race regarding any utilization of technology or advanced colonization. Unsurprisingly, their species didn’t speak a  _ lick _ of Basic.

Your usual escapades don’t typically involve getting tangled with the natives. You began to break out in a sweat, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the tension or the thick, muggy fog quickly swirling and encasing the atmosphere. 

Tech immediately brought his visor from atop his helmet within view and began decrypting the translation with all efficiency and mollification before turning to translate in Basic, a slightly disturbed expression flickering across his features. “In summary- our presence is unwelcome, and they said the  _ giant one _ is to be  _ executed _ for the destruction from our _last_ encounter of one of their... precious pet  _ Chebesiy_.”

“ _WHAT_?! ” Proceeded from the lot of you in that instant, excluding Crosshair who forfeit all alarm to emit a cackle at the absurd proclamation. 

Wrecker looked to Crosshair with mild hurt and indignation. “Hey, I don’t see what’s so-“ 

“Wait!” You interrupt, a detail of importance dawning your thoughts as you quickly turn to regard Tech. “Tech, tell them we were sent by...” you wrinkle your nose in mustering remembrance at the word and it’s pronunciation, “... _ bushainye. _ ”

Tech furrows his brows in reluctance as you watch his internal gears furiously turn to decipher your request. “Y/N-“

“Just,  _tell them_ ,” you meet his hazel brown eyes with a soft plea.

Much to your relief, they  _ Dishi _ people collectively lower their weapons and forego all offensive at the newfound revelation.

“ _It actually worked_ ,” you marvel under your breath.

You listened as Tech quickly explained the reasoning for your presence, as well as issuing what you perceived to be an apology- whether for Wrecker’s unforgivable crime or the fact that you all were trespassing, you weren’t sure. Possibly both.

“Good news!” Tech chirped. “The _Dishi can_ in fact confirm a Separtist outpost of some kind located deeper within the topography. And-“ he continued with matched enthusiasm, “-they have gracefully decided to spare your life, Wrecker.”

“Great...” Wrecker quipped with sarcasm.

***

Thanking the Maker for the lack of run-ins with any  _ Chebesiy _ thus far, you trekked along through the thick canopy of suffocating humidity mixed with the inception of hot rain pattering away against your exposed skin and The Bad Batch’s armor and weaponry. 

You absentmindedly reach for your own equipment, grazing your fingers along the handle of one of your pocketed twin blasters from Crosshair, before thumbing along the hilt of your newly gifted vibroblade, courtesy of Hunter. You took a moment to fondly recall the day last week he surprised you with it-

_ “Alright, keep ‘em closed and hold your hand out,” Hunter’s voiced instruction permeated your surroundings as a single cupped hand over your eyes granted your vision nothing short of total darkness, with your other hand remaining palm up in preparation for whatever was to be bestowed within your grasp. _

_ You immediately felt your fingers enclose around the hilt of a sword, you could tell that much. You eyes shot open and widened in awe to behold Hunter’s prized vibroblade, now within your possession. Your baffled expression met the satisfied glimmer in his eyes. _

_ “Hunter...” you hesitantly began, your grip on the hilt loosening at your loss of words in humbled appreciation. “I... are you sure? I don’t know if I can accept this-“ _

_ “Y/N.” Hunter cupped the back of your hand and gently folded your fingers over the hilt of the weapon once again; his hand enveloping yours as he tentatively pushed it against your chest to further solidify his declaration. “It’s yours.” _

_ You look up to meet his gaze, a soft gratitude and affection swirling in your chest. “Thank you.” _

_He reciprocated a half smile before gesturing down to the gift. “You’ve earned this, verd’ika- it suits you._ ”

“-Nah, I bet she learned it from Tech, huh  _ verd’ika _ ?” Wrecker’s booming voice rattled you from your recollection.

A sense of confusion engulfed your facial features as you stammered your embarrassed admittance of having not payed attention at all to the conversation that currently ensued.

“ _Oh_ , I know  _ that _ look,” Crosshair allowed a smirk to play on his lips as he took a moment at ribbing you. “That’s Y/N’s expression of- ‘ _I was so immersed in my own thoughts that I became oblivious to the present’_ - now  **_ that _ ** she learned from Tech.” He snickered, to which you respond with a mirrored smirk and a light jab to his drenched armor.

“So... where  _ did _ you learn that term from, Y/N?” Tech chimed in with unfaltering perplexity.

“One word-  _ Cody_.” 

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. In fact- while I was provided the datapad with the specs for this mission, Cody informed me that he was  _ indeed _ familiar with the natives of this planet, had encountered them once before and somehow successfully managed peaceful relations, effectively earning their trust and admiration-“

“What’s new,” Crosshair muttered and stifled an eye-roll.  _ Of course, it’s no surprise that the highly esteemed Commander is universally accomplished. _

“-Hence the name: ‘ _bushainye _ .”

“Meaning...?” Tech prodded.

“‘ _ Darling Creature _ ’ in the _Dishi_ dialect, apparently- A real compliment.” You choke out a laugh, while the guys collectively snorted at the sentiment.

Crosshair caught his breath and shook his head with pure mischievous intentions. “Oh, I promise he will  _ never _ live  _ that _ down.” To which Wrecker wholeheartedly agreed.

“Good catch on that,  _ verd’ika_. Not sure how the rest of the ‘peace talks’ would’ve gone down without your quick thinking.” Hunter complimented with a chuckle before getting everyone back on track. “Anyone got a visual yet?” 

There was a unanimous lack of confirmation. Having your gaze affixed through your own personalized HUD mounted atop a lightweight visor resting directly at your hairline while encompassing both sides of your head from temple to temple- a unique piece of gear courtesy of none other than your ingenious engineer, who had gone out of his way to curate this extremely practical piece to coincide your smaller frame while ensuring the measurements of your cranial circumference to be  _ perfectly accurate-_ you realized the rain had stopped for the time being, though a glance to the sky initiated the swirling loom of cumulonimbus.

It became eerily quiet.

You stalked forward a few more feet through sparse, non-linear angry brush before Hunter’s moan of pain caused you to jerk your head to his position behind.

You behold the scene of your Sergeant doubled over, grimacing with his eyes shut tight as a single palm pressed flat against his forehead while the other stabilized his trembling form half-kneeling on the forest floor-  _ Sensory overload. _

“Hunter?” you quickly rush to his side with his _vods_ directly behind and tentatively place a hand on his shoulder as to not startle him. “Are you alright?”

It wasn’t your first viewing, but it never got easier to behold his intense episodes. Your heart ached in empathy for him, and you tried to imagine how much worse his brothers felt at his ailment.

He was quick to falter his labored breaths in favor of meeting your gaze with as much of a reassuring expression as he could muster, fervently trying to regain his composure like the  _ leader _ that he  _ was. _Like the  _ leader _ he felt he _needed_ to be-  _no matter what_.

Innately, he brushed your concerns aside with a strained chuckle and lighthearted humor, to which you roll your eyes at his stubbornness.

“What’s out there,  _ vod_?” Crosshair quietly asked while narrowing his eyes as his own expression became laced with unease.

“I’m... not sure, exactly.” Hunter studied his surroundings intently. “ _Large _ electromagnetic pulses radiating  _heavy_ frequencies in this direction.”

“For solely an outpost?” You glance around, only to feel your intuition plagued with a increasing sense of foreboding that manifested itself through your vocalization. “Something’s not right out there...” 

You muse for a moment before instantly perking up in further attentiveness, quickly flipping down and bringing into focus your HUD once again.

“ _Oh, Wrecker_! ” you sing-song to catch his attention before beckoning him with a flick of your pointer finger, winking with suggestiveness to top off your charisma.

Wrecker knew exactly what you meant- though, not quite what an outsider might’ve expected- as his handsome smirk and strong arms graced you with ease before positioning you atop his broad shoulders, with you never ceasing to appreciate his height that allowed an advantage in so many ways- Such as providing better coverage with the scopes thanks to your now greatly improved visual.

Crosshair folded his arms in dissatisfaction as he eyed your form perched atop Wrecker and the way his  _ vod _ was practically  _ gloating _ from his apparent  _ good fortune _ . Crosshair scoffed slightly. “I could’ve done that from a limb in the tree and gotten the same result.”  _With far superior eyesight at that_ ,  Crosshair barely managed to bite back his abrasiveness. 

“You could’ve.  _ However- _it’s _far_ more enjoyable with Wrecker.” You laugh as you continue to scan while Wrecker takes a moment to bask in your apparent favoritism, turning to Crosshair with a widened grin to project his competitive-fueled pride. “See, Crosshair-  _ Y/N _ likes  _ me_, more.”

“Don’t let it go to the wrong head, Wrecker,” Crosshair’s quip tone was his typical sense of banter, even if a slight twinge of jealousy threatened to peak through in that instant.

“I think I’ve got something.” Your gaze honed in on a peculiar yet distinctly spherical and luminescent shape barely unveiling itself through the blanket of fog and mist, attached to a mechanized contraption of heavy armor and a long, single-cylinder barrel to accompany. The mechanical click and whirs of tank wheels trudging through the terrain while emitting an increasingly high-pitched whine simultaneously drowned out your own thoughts, as did the alarming realization at the identified weapon.

_Desolators_.

This wasn’t  _ solely _ a listening post out here.

Haunting memories of a grotesque battle field that was your home from long ago suddenly swept your thoughts, instilling panic and grief thought to be long discarded at the way those same tanks currently advancing towards you wreaked havoc and destruction right before your eyes all those years ago.

“Wait, I now have visual confirmation on my scanners,” Tech’s pitched voice cut through your distressing mental suffocation. “Multiple targets approaching-  large, might I add. You’re right, Hunter- they are  _definitely_ producing _heavy_ frequencies at a heightened rate.”

“We have to move,” you quickly state, as Wrecker notices your contorted facial expression filled with distress and gently places you down. He desperately wanted to ask what was wrong, to comfort you somehow.

“Do you think they know we’re here?” Hunter asked.

“It’s a 50/50.”

“I’ll take it.” Hunter paused, straightening with sudden clarification. “Crosshair, you and Wrecker find a place within the tanks’ path and get topside-  _hold your positions_. ”He turned to you and Tech and continued-“ _ We _ are going to hitch a ride on those gargantuan contraptions- it’s highly irregular for those types of tanks to have seemingly wandered out this far without a stronghold to go back to. Let’s find out where that is.”

“Hunter, I’m rather disappointed in your rather plain and straightforward strategy,” Tech unimpressively stated, to which Wrecker followed suit with a complaint, hanging his head in defeat at the actual realization of  stealth before quickly bouncing back from his despondent state to regard Hunter with concern. “You  _ sure _ you’ll be  _ OK_, Sarge? With those tanks and all?”

Hunter gave a reassuring pat to his vod’s forearm. “Don’t worry about me Wrecker; and I have a feeling things are about to get  _ interesting_.”

***

“Not exactly what I would call  _ interesting_,” Tech hissed in a tone dripping with sass as the three of you stealthily made your way through the inner workings of a maze that is this... Separatist  _factory_. Much to your relief, the tanks that became your chauffeurs seemingly didn’t detect any organic material or drag along the thick armor encompassing the artillery, and did indeed lead the three of you right to their homestead, just as Hunter predicted.

Strangely, there isn’t an amassment of droid battalions around or inside the premises- save for the several squads of B1 and Commando droids, some of which the three of you made quick work of with all efficiency- and a half dozen Super Tactical Droids spread thinly throughout. You soon concluded that this was merely a branched version of a larger facility, hence the lack of droid personnel.

Only upon reaching the main durasteel doors located deep within the infrastructure that housed the control center did you realize that  this part had to be the ‘ _phantom operation_ ’ the Republic was referring to.

_That was the least of their worries_ ,  you note, glancing out one of the side transparisteel windows to behold a solid dozen Desolators maneuvered into formation.

It had been a unanimous decision to forego contacting the Republic in acknowledgment for support, with The Bad Batch unsurprisingly insisting that the five of you could more than handle the task. Initially, the task presented with a minuscule hiccup at the jammed communications regarding either external _or_ internal sources. 

“Okay Tech, you know what to do. I’ll get you a head from one of those Tactical droids to plug into once you’re in the central computer.” Hunter instructed, to Tech’s eager nod of approval.

The three of you silenced any droids behind the previously vaulted door as you effectively blasted and sliced your way in before Hunter indeed yanked a head off the closest Tactical droid in one solid motion before tossing it over to Tech and sprinting out of the facility to signal for Wrecker to join the party- and bring the “ _ big guns _ ”.

You position yourself in a battle-ready stance guarding Tech as he quickly worked on the hardware with his back to you; your twin pistols out and point blank facing the door.

“I’ve got your back,” spurted from your lips with all intensity, having not taken your eyes off the door for even a second.

“That makes me feel much better.”

You were genuinely surprised when Tech’s voice surfaced from his otherwise immersed state- you knew from experience to implement  _ minimal _ conversation with Tech while he was in the midst of fervent concentration. Not for the fact that it distracted him- simply that his incisive attention span during would indefinitely constitute your conversation as merely one-sided.

“You better mean that,” you tease.

“Always,  _ner cyar’ika_.” 

You were glad his current position wouldn’t permit him the image of the scarlet pigment dusting your cheeks and the wide smile reaching your eyes as your heart stuttered at his diction for you.

A deep reverberation from outside rattled you down to your physical form, and you instinctively picked up your communicator and prayed to the Maker that you’d be able to pick up a signal now that Tech had restored comm function. The boisterous laugh of Wrecker resounding through the small device within your grasp washed you with a sudden wave of relief.

“How’s it going up there?” Crosshair abruptly inserted through his own channel.

“Nearly finished!” Tech called back to him. “But be advised- This place  _is going_ to blow soon.”

Wrecker’s cheers and cries of joy over the comm were infectious.

Instantly, a new squad of Commando droids came flooding in, having bypassed Tech’s rigging on the locks encompassing the doors altogether. Blaster fire ensued and you soon forfeit your volley of blue bolts clashing with the red in favor of unsheathing your vibroblade and positioning yourself uncomfortably close to the droids for a moment of melee combat.

Crosshair immediately heard the chaos over the static and didn’t even bother with offering his assistance before tersely stating, “Be right there.”

“Oh, good!” You shout breathlessly, having barely dodged the serrated point from the end of one of the droid’s own vibrosword. “We  _could_ use some help. Besides- I miss you,  _ ram’ser._”

“I’m touched,  _ ik’aad_.”

“Time to go!” Tech cut in, quickly pocketing his equipment and drawing his blasters before joining the fight beside you; the smoking bodies of droids littering the floor as you sprinted through the hallways before meeting up with Crosshair, who predictably left separate evidence of destruction in his own wake.

The three of you beheld a scene on the outside perimeter that lay waste with all ruin- the battered shells belonging to the no longer functioning mechanizations of the tanks, their spherical orbs of condensed energy once channeled into high potency blaster fire now flickering faintly as the metallic sparks from the twitching and menacing silhouettes of automatons integrated with the smoldering, fuming clouds of fire and ash enveloping the scorched timber landscape permeated your senses all at once, nearly triggering a spastic gag reflex at the harsh elements.

You quickly made appoint to locate Wrecker and Hunter, who looked worse for wear- the latter of the two men looking slightly pale: no doubt the sheer potency of the electromagnetic radiation wreaking havoc on his nervous system.

Per Tech’s demand, you all retreated from the giant tower that was now one ticking time bomb; but not before you halted your stride to quickly turn at the sound of a low-pitched whine and battery humming to life before aiming right in your direction.

You barely had time to react before an explosion rocked your world and your vision blackened.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 6: Part 2.  
> [Warnings: None]

“ _Y/N_...”

“ _Verd’ika_...”

“ ** _Y/N!_** ”

You came to with a startled cry and a reflexive punch directed wildly before you even had a chance to open your eyes.

“Hey-  _ woah,_”  Hunter’s larger hand instinctively and with his own keen maneuver grasped your balled fist positioned just inches from his face before quickly reassuring you. “Y/N, you’re safe.”

In that moment, the raw distress and disorientation encompassing your beautiful face alongside your widened gaze of  _ horror _ at the way  your _fist_ nearly collided with the Sergeant sent a pang of guilt coursing through him. It’s been a long time since he’d seen you house a vulnerable expression like that. 

He’d forgotten how much it hurt.

“Hunter,” you breathed in realization, blinking hard as your hazy vision finally zoned in before settling on your Sergeant.

“It’s alright,” he soothed, lowering your rigid arm and gently thumbing at your cheek in removing the slight remnants of soot that had accumulated.

“Where...” you dazedly studied your surroundings; quickly noting that this was  _ not  _ the scenery you remember being guest to before blacking out. “...What happened?” You manage in just above a whisper, feeling your breathing slightly ragged.

His smile was kind, gentle. “The last bit of juice from one of those tanks really knocked the wind out of ya- had you sleepin’ on the job for a few minutes.” You realized his own voice was a bit shaky in his attempt at humor before he continued in all seriousness, placing a hand to your shoulder. “Gave us all a good scare there,  _ verd’ika._ Are you okay?” 

You exhale slowly, adrenaline slowly fading. “I think so... yeah,” you groan slightly as he helps to you feet, your legs emitting a weak tremble in response. A notion suddenly dawned on you while analyzing upon your last coherent moments before losing consciousness. “It  _ came _ _right_ _for_ me, though... How am I not dead?” You asked with authentic bewilderment.

“You have your  _ cyare ram’ser  _ to thank for that,” Hunter smirked before gesturing his head in the direction of Crosshair’s rigid form, who had simply been quietly regarding you the entire time. “Let’s just say ole’ Crosshair over there- that man doesn’t play around when it comes to you. Those reflexes are no joke.”

You follow his gaze before settling on the sniper: a sense of enigma encasing his features while making no attempt to deny Hunter’s... _interesting _ claims. In fact, he remained motionless until you spoke first, your radiating warmth and sincerity never failing to effectively make Crosshair succumb to you.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” 

The statement appeared curt to the less perceptive, but you knew better. Crosshair’s conveyance and style of phrasing spoke profoundly beneath the surface, and you understood with a clarity equivalent to a gaze beheld through transparisteel itself. Currently- that being a window of deep fondness and appreciation shared.

You immediately feel a swell of panic and confusion hitch your breath as you fully realized the absence of two particular members.

“ _Where are Tech and Wrecker_?!” You question in alarm.

“Right here, Y/N!” The distinct, elevated voice attached to the engineer proved mellifluous to your ears in that moment as you quickly turned your head in following the trailing voice before settling on Tech’s face: slightly ashen in appearance and goggles thickly coated with... black soot. 

You stifle an endearing laugh at his rugged sight to behold. “Are you okay?...” you tentatively ask while gingerly reaching out to swipe the debris off one of his lenses with your thumb, fingers ghosting his cheek before your soft smile gracefully settles on his features; effectively alleviating his pout. You always were attentive and thoughtful of others. Tech feels his heart hammer for you- again. That all-too-familiar tug. The overwhelming one.

“ _VERD’IKA_!!!” Large, strong arms tightly wrap around you from behind before you have the chance to hear Tech’s response; the sturdy grasp inevitably filling you with  such _warmth_ and  _ Maker_, you are  _ so _ enamored of the gentle giant now cradling you. 

Even if his embrace is compressing every last ragged breath from you in that moment.

“Wrecker...” you call in a strained gasp. “Can’t... breathe...” 

“ _OH!_ Sorry, Y/N!” Wrecker grimaces before tenderly placing you down. “You had us _SO_ worried.” Relief effuses and washes over his texturized face as his expression becomes so timid. His spirits palpably deflate as he suddenly averts his gaze from your eyes to the ground at your feet. You quickly place a firm grasp to his arm as a worrisome frown knits your brows together.

“Wrecker?... What’s wrong?” You find he hesitantly meets your gaze before admitting his immense guilt at having not prevented the blast- how he  _knows he could have_.

“Hey- NO.” You stern, quickly snuffing out his perceived culpability and nipping it at the root before it can even flourish. “It is NOT your fault big guy- these things just happen.” Your voice softens. He’s not quite ready to accept your assurance.

“Wrecker... look at me? I’m OK, see? I didn’t earn the name ‘ _ verd’ika _ ’ for no reason. Barely a scratch.” You laugh in good-nature, gesturing to your entirety with over-exaggerated emphasis in order to support your point and hoping to boost his morale.

“Um... I think your... _clothing _ would say otherwise.” Crosshair addressed, his eyes making no discretion of gesturing up and down your frame with a hint of hesitancy enveloping his words, to which you cock your head to regard him in sheer confusion.

“My...? _OH_.” You breathed, no longer seeing fit to finish your revelation as one downcast glance to your trousers and emblem-crested top confirmed Crosshair’s crypt evaluation-

Your Officer’s uniform was absolutely  _ tattered_. 

Thank the Maker  it still provided you with some semblance of dignity as it remained somewhat modestly clothed over your figure. _ How did you not notice this until now? _

“ _Tal’galar_ ,  Y/N...”  spewed from Hunter’s lips as he frowned, tentatively reaching out to touch your exposed side as your tattered and singed uniform gave peak to a spot against your ribcage that was the color of crimson.

You regard his touch and easily decipherableMando’a term; acutely aware of his discovery before projecting a reassuring smile. “Oh, that’s not blood... I’m not bleeding, don’t worry.”

_The tattoo. _

_ No better time to reveal your surprise, you suppose. _

“It’s my tattoo.” You unceremoniously state, foregoing all formality at the deliverance of news and slightly lifting the torn fabric surrounding the area to give them a better glimpse of the emblem-  _ a small skull with the digits 99 written in crimson red in place of eye sockets. _

The unanimously mixed expressions of utter bafflement and amusement that swept across the features of the four men had you suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter with all intensity until you clutched at your stomach to quell your wheezing- you didn’t know  _ why  _ you found their bewilderment so downright hilarious in that moment, and you became vaguely aware of the background noise that was Crosshair’s coolly vocalized theory in that you probably just “ _hit your head too hard and was a little out of it right now_.”

Hunter, being the first to recover, simply arched his brows in amusement while eyeing you, even if his expression sported remnants of ambivalence. “Well... I certainly didn’t picture you as one to sport a tattoo,  Y/N.” Hunter figured that was a safer, more appropriate and respectfully neutral answer to go with.

_ Even if he secretly loved the way you adorned the colorful affirmation.  _

Just beholding your glowing expression- the one he’s looked upon often, the one that sent his composure into a downward spiral once away from prying eyes- your  _ ramikadyc _ confidence, dazzling smile filled with absolute bliss and a sparkle in your eyes to match- 

Hunter almost couldn’t catch his breath in that moment, and he was more than glad when Wrecker began to gush over you where  _ he  _ personally  _ couldn’t, shouldn’t_.

“I LOVE IT!!!” Wrecker hollered in satisfaction. “Now  _ THAT _ should go as our new nose art!”

“What, Y/N herself?” Crosshair asked in amusement, his eyes making no qualms in subtlety as they developed a will of their own in slowly wandering over you again, transfixed in contemplation splaying across his features while regarding you intently, as he often did. He allowed his suggestiveness to falter for a moment and simply shrugged at Wrecker’s notion.  _You’d get no complaints from me_ ,  was what he  _ wanted _ to say.

But the four men had more respect for you than that.  _ Fervent, utmost  _ respect.

“ _Absolutely not_.”  Tech firmly addressed Wrecker’s idea while crossing his arms; face exasperated and quite unsure of what to make of your new...  _artistic piece_. 

He definitely needed time to process it, and Crosshair and Wrecker’s emphasis, while harmless enough, was seemingly obnoxious to the engineer in that moment. He couldn’t decipher why.

Tech cast a sideways glance to his eldest  _ ori’vod,_ who in turn met his gaze. Tech frowned slightly at the way Hunter’s thoughts appeared to be plagued by something, or  _ someone _ . 

_Just as his own were_.

“I wonder... Crosshair mused, “what  _ other  _ secrets you have.” It wasn’t really a question.

You inwardly  _ snicker,_ _relishing _ at your chance for a response that will send them absolutely reeling as you manage to project a stoic expression in order to fully fuel your believable performance:

“I have a crush on Commander Cody.”

Hunter practically choked, Crosshair simply wise-guyed how he “ _knew all along_ ”  \-- _with thinly veiled bitterness in his voice, at that_ \--while Wrecker bellowed in laughter, and Tech looked downright  _ shattered  _ as his mouth lay agape in regarding you.

“Well then...” Hunter, as usual, was the first to speak up; clearing his throat and looking slightly uncomfortable even if his lips briefly turned upward in a wry smile. He attempted a chuckle and searched for the right words. “I’ll... be sure to relay the message...”

“Oh, please do,” you insist, a deliberation in slight pause before continuing, “but **_only_** if you tell him that your- _ramikadyc verd’ika_\- adores Clone Force 99 _way_ _more_ _._ ” You allow your declaration to sink in, intently studying each member and the way the words of a beloved Officer single-handedly made four Super Commandos nearly swoon. You’re basking in their pleasure; a bright, sincere smile filling your cheeks before addressing them once more:

“ _Ner yaim, ner kar’ta_.”

_ My home, my heart. _


End file.
